This is what we used to do to witches, in that more enlightened, Christian age.
I now have a job. I work sixteen hours a week for a major Grocery retailer picking customer online shopping, Sunday-Wednesday 4:00am-8:00am. It could be worse, I could be a traditionalist. Not that I am used to getting up at night to start work when, in decent places, it's still bed time, but there we are. It's going to be much easier to find work whilst working, and I might be able to afford to have my dry cleaning done this month. But I do owe lots of people money. My line manager is a fat lesbian with bleached hair, and she describes herself as a "witch." When I asked if that meant that she dances around at the Equinox she said that it was more "private practice" than that, so I guess she sits around a pentagram with her partner, stark naked and doing God only knows what. Of course, before the retailer and the law my own Christian faith is as valid as witchcraft. Till the Russians come, that is!
Once again, I welcome my new Russian audience, whose collective readership seems, this month at least, to have outnumbered both my American and British audience. It would be encouraging if my open invitation ended up on Mr Putin's desk, and I send him my cordial greetings if he is reading this. Keep up the good work in Syria! Do not stop shewing up the pathetic feebleness of our political class, and that vicious snide Mr Obama.
We're technically a fortnight too early (again, till the Russians come), but I send my heartfelt greetings to the Dean and Chapter of England's finest (and worst) church on this, the festival of the Translation of the Relics of St Edward the Confessor. A very felicitous Edwardtide!